Hold On
by ladymars
Summary: Spoilers for The Portrait. Neal's trying to deal with the newest blow that his life has delivered to him. Will he be able to hold on or will this be too much for him to handle?


SPOILERS: Serious spoilers for "The Portrait." If you haven't seen it, don't read.

* * *

Gone.

She was standing where he was just a few scant minutes prior and now she was gone.

She had slipped through his fingers again. He had been so close this time. He had seen her; she had been close enough to get back. If he hadn't listened, if he thrown the phone down and followed his instincts like he always did, she would have been back with him. Safe.

But he hadn't. He stood there, listening to her demands – _his demands_ coming from her – before taking off after her two minutes too late. He knew she was gone before he rounded the corner, but something forced him to keep moving. Something drove him over Park to the terminal's front.

Hope. Part of him had hoped, desperately, that she'd still be standing there when he got there, but it wasn't to be. She was gone. Flitted away from unknown captor. He wanted to stay there and scream until his voice gave out, but he didn't. He knew that it wouldn't have done him any good.

Mozzie arrived a few minutes later, he wasn't in as much of a hurry as Neal had been, finding his friend rooted to the spot he had stopped in. The color had drained from his face and he had a haunted look in his eyes. It wasn't hard to figure out what was going through Neal's head, so he didn't even bother to ask. He delivered Kate's messages and got a short, mirthless laugh from Neal.

The only way.

Surrender was the only way.

Neal would have stayed in that spot, blindly listening to Mozzie ramble on about what moves they could make from there, what needed to be done to bring Kate back to him, had his phone not gone off.

Peter.

Their conversation had been short; Neal had sworn he was going to be back after their usual lunch hour, claiming he had something to do that morning. Peter had doubtfully agreed to let the con off the hook for a bit. Neal had hoped to get back to June's to change before going back in, but now staring at his watch, and with Peter rambling in his ear, he realized that he'd been standing at the terminal for more than forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of Mozzie's incessant ramblings and no way to explain to Peter why he was late and not dressed like he normally was. He contemplated lying to Peter, telling him something had come up and he couldn't come in, but Peter had said something about a briefing. And if there was a briefing, he needed to be there.

"I'm coming." Neal hung up before Peter could reply and started retracing his steps. Mozzie followed a few steps behind, finally at a loss about what to say to Neal. No amount of apologies were going to bring Kate back. Something needed to be said, some kind of assurance needed to be given, but he had none. He just followed Neal quietly back to the FBI building.

Neal had entered the monolith without a word spoken.

* * *

An irate Peter met him at the door to the office. "What took you so long? Where were you?" Neal shot him a look half way between anger and emotional collapse and slid through the door past him.

"What does it matter?" He replied flatly, heading past the desks to the conference room. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

Peter watched his partner disappear into the conference room before moving away from the door to follow him. Something was wrong, definitively wrong with Neal. All of the charm, the charisma, everything that made Neal who he was had been stripped away. Left behind was this bitter, detached shell that looked like Neal.

Peter followed Neal into the conference room and waved at Jones to start. Jones got stated with the presentation, but Peter wasn't paying attention. He was more focused on Neal who was more interested in what was going on out the window. Usually he spent the meetings playing with his Blackberry, adding his two cents when necessary. Today it seemed that not even the electric device could distract him. Something was wrong and Peter needed to get to the bottom of it.

"Sir?" Peter looked up, pulled out of his ravine by Jones. "We need to start surveillance to get this rolling."

"Get a team on it." Jones nodded and headed out with Cruz on his heels. Peter had no idea how long her had been zoning out, but he knew everything that needed to be known for this phase of the briefing. It was more for Neal's benefit and the con man wasn't even paying attention. "You want to talk about it?" Neal didn't respond. "Neal?"

"No." Neal got up and started out of the room.

"Where are you going? You just got here!"

"Home." Neal disappeared around the corner. Peter scrambled out of his chair to follow him.

"Neal? Neal!" Neal kept walking. "Caffrey!" He stopped, and turned, his gaze cold again. Peter followed him down the ramp, and stopped in front of him. "What is the matter with you?" He asked quietly. "You show up late, not acting like yourself, and you spent the entire meeting staring out of the window. Something is going on with you and I would like to know what it is."

Neal stared at him, contemplating telling him. He needed someone to know, but at the same time he wasn't willing, wasn't really able to tell him. The wound was too fresh, too new to be talking about it yet. He needed to know what his next move was before he'd be ready to talk about it. He needed to get away from everyone for a moment alone to allow himself collapse. "You seem to know everything about me," he snapped back. "You figure it out."

And with that, he turned and left.

Peter watched him go, then returned to his office. He plopped down at his desk and pulled up Neal's tracking logs, trying to figure out where he had been that would set him off like this.

Grand Central Station.

This was the second time this week Neal had been there. Twice in one week was more than a coincidence. Something had happened there. Something had happened that would cause Neal to retreat into himself. Peter thought about it for a bit. He knew Neal well enough to know most of his idiosyncrasies, so he knew that he held the answer. What was the one thing that would set him off like this? What would make him mad enough to leave in the middle of the day?

Kate.

Peter sighed; he had found Kate. She was the only thing that could get him to react like that. Someone needed to talk to Neal about this. He wasn't supposed to be chasing Kate, but he had gone after her again. He needed to be reprimanded for his actions, but Peter couldn't bring himself to do it. The pain in Neal's eyes was punishment enough. He needed someone who would listen, not someone who would yell.

He pulled his phone out of his coat and dialed.

"Hey El. I need you to do me a favor."

* * *

Neal stared at the bottle. It sat, taunting him. He had been so close to getting her back. And now not only was she on the line, so was his entire collection. His world was teetering on the brink and there was nothing he could do about it. He pushed his way back from the table and headed out to the balcony.

He wanted to run, to get away, to go anywhere but where he was. He wanted to go find Kate. He knew she was somewhere in the city, but he knew the minute he went after her, Peter would find out. And when Peter found out he would be going back to jail. He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

He was out of options. He was stuck.

He was pulled, once again, from his ravine by a knock on the door. He sighed again and shouted. "Mozzie go away! I don't want to talk about it." The knocking continued. "Moz, third time is _not_ a charm." The knocking continued and Neal pushed off the wall. He headed back into the house. "I swear to god, Moz, this is the last time we're going to do this. I am going to walk you out the door one last time and I'm going to tell June that if she sees your little, bald head at the door again that you're…" He paused when he opened the door. "Not who I thought you were."

Elizabeth smiled. "Peter asked me to come. He said something was wrong." Neal sighed; of course Peter had figured it out. And of course he had sent Elizabeth. Peter wasn't good with anything remotely emotional. He stepped aside and let Elizabeth in. He took her coat and hung it up.

"Can I get you something?" Elizabeth shook her head and sat down at the table.

"Care to explain what's going on?" Neal sat down across from her. He contemplated not telling her. He still didn't want to talk about it. But there was something about Elizabeth sitting there, willing to listen, willing to help that made him want to talk about it.

He settled into a chair with a sigh. "It's Kate." He paused, waiting for Elizabeth to respond, but she didn't say anything. "I was close. So close. I almost had her." The anger that had bubbled to the surface dissipated quickly. "And now she's gone and I have no idea where she is." He paused again. "And I don't know what to do."

Elizabeth let him finish, contemplating what she should tell him. She couldn't tell him to keep going; that would get them both in trouble with Peter. But she needed to keep him going, some how. He couldn't lose faith yet; the look in his eyes said that he wouldn't make it much past the end of the weekend if he kept thinking like this. "Hold on." Neal looked at her, confused. Elizabeth carried on slowly. "She managed to find her way back to you once Neal, she'll find you again. You just have to hold on."

* * *

He sat at the end of the table, glass of wine in his hand, watching Mozzie sleep on the couch. Moz had shown up not long after Elizabeth had left. The offer of food had convinced Neal to let his friend in. Mozzie had chattered idly all the way through dinner, Neal not contributing to the conversation much. But Mozzie kept talking. And drinking. And talking. And drinking.

And even though Neal wasn't interested in contributing, he was glad for the company. It was a nice escape from the silence. It kept him from getting too far lost in his thoughts. But now that it was quiet again, the thoughts were creeping back into the forefront.

Elizabeth was right. Even though Kate had slipped through his fingers again, he couldn't just give up. She'd managed to lead him back to her once, she would manage to find her way back again. And next time, he would have a plan. She wouldn't be taken from him again.

_Hold on Kate, I'm coming._


End file.
